


Tell me

by Chatote



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anyway all that to say: Az has questions, Fluff, M/M, Romance, how to frighten your angel, who run into a burning bookshop really?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 15:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chatote/pseuds/Chatote
Summary: When Aziraphale discovers that Crowley ran into his bookshop while it was on fire, he has questions.





	Tell me

It was the evening of the first day after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t and Aziraphale and Crowley were getting drunk in the back room of the repaired bookshop. 

“It’s not that they’re not _interesting_  books,“ the angel was saying, an half-empty bottle* of red wine in the hand, “but they’re for- for _children_.“

Besides him, Crowley nodded and his sunglasses slid on his nose, revealing two yellow eyes. He was watching the tv before them where pictures of the previous day’s events were displayed.

“They’re still really expensive,“ Aziraphale continued, “but it’s not as if I was gonna read them!“ He looked around at the new and unknown books Adam had placed on the shelves before turning to Crowley and poking him in the arm. “You’re not listening to me!“ 

“Aw!“ Crowley exclaimed**. “They’re showing what happened yesterday. Even if the Armageddon never happened, I’d say I beat you, angel. Look at all these. Straight up to my side.“***

“I thought sides weren’t real,“ Aziraphale muttered, remembering their previous conversation but too drunk to remember Crowley’s proper words. He turned to the tv where testimonies of the M25’s destruction morphed into a video of his burning bookshop.

 _“We don’t have any news of this man,“_  the journalist was saying. _“His involvement in the crimes is being questioned. If you know anything about it, contact the police. He might be dangerous. Now, about the flooding in -“_  The pictures were showing a tall dark-haired man with black sunglasses running into the burning building and getting out, half-smoked half-wet, a few minutes later. Aziraphale sobered up instantly. 

He slammed Crowley on the arm, harder this time. “Why did you do that!“

Crowley rose his head from the table and frowned at his partner. “Why did I do what?“

Aziraphale pointed at the tv where the Atlantis was disappearing under the dark ocean. “Why did you ran into a burning bookshop!?“ ****

“Uh, needed you,“ Crowley grumbled before hiding his face in his arms again. Aziraphale looked confused. 

“You ran into the bookshop while it was on fire because you needed me? Wasn’t the fire proof enough that I wasn’t in condition to help anyone, dear boy?“

“I _went_  to the bookshop because I needed you,“ Crowley corrected, his words muffled by his limbs. “I knew you couldn’t when I saw the fire. You’d never let it be destroyed. You care for it almost as much as I care for my Bentley.“

“But why did you ran in, then?“ Aziraphale insisted. “If I couldn’t save the bookshop, it meant I was incapacitated. It was _dangerous_ , Crowley. What if it had been another angel, uh? What would you have done then? Kill them? What if _they_  had killed _you_?“

Crowley stayed silent for a minute. For a brief second, he considered sobering up, but the sweetness of alcohol was too appealing. 

“Demons don’t have _feelings_ ,“ Crowley said, eventually*****. 

“Demons don’t get drunk with angels neither,“ the angel replied.

It felt like it was the right moment for Crowley to get up and leave but, instead, he took a long sip of wine. 

“Whatever,“ he muttered. 

“Uh-uh,“ Aziraphale said, now smirking. He was feeling particularly playful and leaned close to whisper in Crowley’s ear. “Tell me why you ran in, dear boy.“ 

The demon turned his head and looked into Aziraphale’s eyes. He wasn’t surprised to find him so close. 

“Fine,“ he said, rolling his eyes with exasperation. “I thought you were hurt. Like I ssssaid, you’d _never_  let it burn willingly.“

Aziraphale beamed. “And…?“

Crowley looked surprise. “And… You should thank me?“ he tried. 

Aziraphale shook his head fondly. “And I love you, dear boy,“ he murmured, posing a soft kiss on his demon’s lips before dragging him to the upper bedroom. 

Maybe demons _do_ have feeling, Crowley thought as they stumbled upstairs, or maybe he wasn’t really made of demons stuff. 

* * *

* He preferred to think of it as an half- _full_  bottle of red wine.

** More for form than pain. Aziraphale was too drunk to hurt and, even if he wasn’t, he would never. 

*** Alcohol had chased the ‘revelation’ he had had at the lake out of his mind.

**** The grammatical mistake showed how disturbed he was. 

***** Demons don’t have _happy_  feelings like happiness, joy, love, etc. They _do_ have negative feelings like anger or hate, Hastur being a great example of that. 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [No Greater Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12845583) by [thesentimentalist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesentimentalist/pseuds/thesentimentalist)




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